Head first, fearless
by C.Watherston
Summary: A collection of one shots; various pairings, ratings subject to chapter, some AU. Basically author exploring the capabilities of a new-found obsession. All blame to my best friend ninjaelmo! Reveiws most appreciated.
1. A Beautiful Life

**Title: A Beautiful Life **

**Rating: M, mostly for suggestion. **

**Pairing: Klaine! **

**Song credits: None. *le gasp!* **

**Summary: On a night in the dead of winter, Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel babysit their godson. Set sometime far in the future, though I hope with the desperatation of a hidden romantic that it's not too far off canon *winks* **

**AU: This scene is adapted from an original piece of my own. Am relatively confident that all the random names have been altered/deleted, but please let me know if I've missed something. Regards! **

A night in the dead of winter.

Yellowed streets lights turned the downpour thundering against the sidewalk into a harsh gold. The road reflected it back into the air like a slick black mirror and water splashed up the legs of the man jogging through the heavy rain to reach his home. The small, three bedroom unit was crammed between two houses just like it; but somehow it was private and secluded. They rarely saw their neighbours, and it was even more rare to actually speak to them.

Fumbling with cold fingers, the compact, dark-haired man cursed at the latch of the door, feeling the rain soak through his threadbare coat and stepping back off the porch to peer at the keys in the small shard of light from the window, squinting in the curtain of black water pouring from the sky. Suddenly, the door swung open and he was illuminated with brilliance, a silhouette standing akimbo.

"Oh, baby! Why didn't you call? I would have picked you up!"

Blaine 'Warbler' Anderson-Hummel had but a moment to take in the vision of the creature standing on the doorstep before he was pulled inside to the warmth and homely brightness. The light-brown hair was a relaxed mess of washed bangs against his forehead. Green-grey-blue eyes that changed and shone and danced set in a face that angels could envy.

A classy, sexy blues number was playing in the background as Blaine shook out his hair, dripping all over the floor. He turned his head as the love of his life locked the door behind him and turned around.

"Hey there handsome" he said with a sheet-shredding grin and pulled Blaine towards him.

Kurt Elizabeth 'Porcelain' Anderson-Hummel melted like a thirteen-year-old girl when his lover of seventeen years pressed his lips against his own. They were cold and wet and at that moment everything was perfect and right in the world.

"Ew guys, not while I'm right here!"

Laughing as they broke apart, Blaine turned around. A boy of twelve stood in the doorway, graphite marred fingers covering his eyes as he made a noise of disgust and turned on the spot, back into the kitchen.

"When did he turn into such a prude?" asked Blaine dryly, pulling his drenched coat off his broad shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack. Kurt smirked.

"I'm going to blame it on your influence"

"I'll remember that next time you try to talk me into doing something we're not meant to"

Kurt laughed, holding Blaine's bicep. The corners of his glasz eyes crinkled as Blaine gave his ear a gentle yank.

Standing there looking bedraggled and drowned, his warm olive skin was flushed paler with the cold, his black curls glued to the sides of his face, he was a damn vision. He'd stripped down to his good Oxford shirt, his sensible dark green tie that set off the green in his hazel eyes untied around his neck. He was so wet the thin material had suctioned to every available inch of naked skin; the bold imprint of the subtle muscle traversing his build as obvious if he'd been naked.

"You'd better get those trousers off as well, babe, and throw the lot of it in the drier. Don't go trekking water all through the house"

Blaine shot him a reproachful, amused look at the poorly disguised suggestion in Kurt's 'casual' comment and made sure he saw him look pointedly up to their godson; Pierce Lopez, sitting at the booth. Kurt smirked and Blaine's heart choked.

It was that smirk. The one that had gotten him into oh-so-much trouble when they were at school. It was the one that continued to remind Blaine Anderson why he put up with the infuriatingly wonderful fashionista even after all these years of doing so.

Nevertheless, Blaine did as Kurt told him and took his sopping clothes into their little laundry down the narrow hall next to their stairs. He had a shower as hot as he could stand and, wrapped in a towel, made his way up the stairs to get changed. Of course, he couldn't resist stopping deliberately at the foot of the stairs, where the dim hall light turned the droplets of water on his skin into molten gold crystals and winking at a wide-eyed Kurt over Pierce's head. The twelve-year-old didn't even notice; luckily for the both of them.

Now more appropriately dressed, Blaine descended the stairs on feet as quiet the dead of night, putting a finger to his lips at Pierce, and grabbed Kurt around the waist. The taller man jumped and cursed; Blaine immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and they both looked guiltily at Pierce, who wordlessly grinned at the foul word polluting the air.

"Swear jar Uncle Kurtie!" he laughed, running to fetch the jam jar half filled with coins. Kurt glared at Blaine, who smirked and rose up a little on his toes to kiss the man in his life on the lips.

"You're not forgiven" Kurt told him grudgingly. Blaine ignored him, turning his attention instead to the books that Pierce had spread before him on the island.

"Our scrapbooks again...?"

"Yeah. I think he just finds it weird seeing his mum's in cheerleading uniforms"

Blaine came around the edge of the bench to crane his neck at the spread that Pierce had before him.

There were a few dozen images spread out on the pages open. Across the top of the left page was a title "Summer Lovin'" in obnoxious glitter. There was a picture of the New Direction/Warblers at the beach; there was Artie pretending to be a king as he was carried down the dunes to where they'd set up umbrellas and blankets. There was Puck, Finn, Mike, Wes and David obviously planning something they shouldn't have been; Blaine recalled that was approximately five minutes before Kurt was lifted off his towel and physically dumped into the ocean. There was another one that Kurt had taken himself; Blaine sitting behind him with his arms wrapped securely around Kurt's chest, chin on his shoulder, both of them smiling joyously at the camera.

A picture of Rachel and Finn jumped out at him; it looked like one of those breath-taking melancholy images that belonged on inspirational posters. With the sunset waning behind them, Finn sat on a bench at the park above the beach, Rachel's hands on his shoulders and his resting gently on her waist, their eyes closed.

"This is beautiful" Blaine said, running his fingers over the contented looks on their faces. Kurt looked over the bench to see what picture he was referring to and nodded.

"Yeah. Beautiful" he said softly. Blaine looked up and found him staring straight at him. He blushed; something that Kurt had always thought men grew out of.

Looking back down at the scrapbook, Blaine flipped the page and immediately chuckled.

"Ooh...awkward. How long has he had these out for?"

Kurt flicked him a look over his shoulder.

"Not long, why?"

Blaine grinned and showed him the picture in the corner of the next page; Brittany and Santana in their matching itty-bitty bikinis, smiles melting together in a passionate kiss. Kurt laughed.

"Oh yeah, he's not seeing that one for at least another three years" he chuckled.

Later, having phoned Brittany and Santana to let them say goodnight to Pierce, Blaine put their godson to bed and came down the stairs, yawning. Kurt met him at the bottom of the stairs, holding two wineglasses. Above them, thunder clapped and rain began again to rat-a-tat-tat on the windows and roof. Blaine accepted the glass and relaxed into the half-circle of Kurt's arms; the scratch of Blaine's chin stubble against the unfettered skin in the crook of Kurt's neck.

"Good night to sit by the fire and get steadily incapacitated dontcha think?" Kurt murmured into his pulse, the words tickling heat from just under Blaine's sternum. He twisted away and teasingly pinched Kurt's nose.

"You have work in the morning, smartass. There will be no getting wasted for you"

He entwined their fingers and led the way into the softly lit lounge. The music was still playing softly; the ambiance was close and dusky, making all too tempting to curl up on the couch, drinking straight from the bottle and making long, slow love by the crackling, merry little blaze in the fireplace. Kurt laughed.

"Then I guess I'll just have to sit here and watch you get tipsy. That's always fun"

Blaine turned in front of the couch to tell him that there was no way he was getting written off either, not with a stack of papers to grade upstairs. Unfortunately for his all-important rant, Kurt had other ideas. He plopped himself heavily on the couch and yanked Blaine down after him, spilling wine down his arm and over his own chest.

"Dammit Kurt!" he snapped, not really angry, just tired from a long day, reaching over him to put his glass next to Kurt's and trying to rise to fetch a cloth. Yet again, his partner had other, more important ideas. Catching his wrist, he raised the wine-splattered skin to his mouth and slowly removed it.

"You. Are a very bloody bad influence" Blaine told him, mock-angry, and turned properly so he straddled his hips. Kurt ran his hands up his thighs and under the back of his woollen jumper, grinning when Blaine shivered.

"No shirt, Blaine. Your wantonness embarrasses me..." he muttered teasingly against his gentle lips. Instead of wasting his breath on an answer, Blaine slowly drew the edge of his hot tongue across Kurt's bottom lip. In reply, Kurt could only try to stifle his moan.

"Love you" he muttered. Blaine raised his head and cocked it to the side, studying the lips, the bright eyes, the half-raised eyebrow.

"I love you too" he said softly.

Laying together, Blaine's back pressed to Kurt's chest, their fingers playfully entwined, watching the fire burn, it seemed so easy. The flames turned Blaine's skin gold and their entwined fingers became a shattered map between shadows and soft curves. It was beautiful and it was simple.

Maybe it hadn't always been this way, it simple, but it was now. Their lives tangled around love and friendship; the papers in Blaine's desk from various adoption agencies, Christmas times spent in Ohio and New Years in Times Square. There were Saturday nights out with Santana, Brittany, Rachel and Finn, a tradition upheld throughout the four children they now had between them.

Life, thought Kurt as he kissed Blaine deeply, tasting wine and old books, was a beautiful thing.


	2. Chasin' Rodeo

**Title: Chasin' Rodeo **

**Rating: M for language **

**Pairing: Past Puck/Quinn, past Puck/Lauren, some Sam/Mercedes, mentioned Puck/Rachel. **

**Song credits (in order of appearance); 'Chasin' Rodeo' by Troy Casser-Daly  
'Electric Rodeo' by Lee Kernaghan **

**Summary: Rodeo rider Noah Puckerman has an epiphany in the split second before gravity kicks him in the arse for the millionth time. He's twenty-seven, nothing to his name but trophy saddles, and he's missed the last three years of his daughter's life. Something's gotta give.  
**

_I just pulled in to another town  
Out here on the road.  
I'm still carrying the bruises  
From the last cagey bull I rode  
Now I had my choices,  
But when I had to go;  
I said mum and dad, I love ya heaps,  
But I'm off chasing rodeo. _

At same stage between the swoop of his belly as he left the back of the bullock and the _wham _of his body slamming to the thick dirt of the arena, somewhere during that sickening swooping feeling of falling hard, Puck realised he was done. He decided, as he crashed back to earth in the merciless talons of gravity, that there was absolutely no goddamn point in this shit anymore.

He was twenty-seven years old. He'd broken every bone in his body at least twice. He had nothing to his name but his horse, the guitar he'd been given by his music teacher in high school, his trailer and the truck, the trophy saddles and buckles. Quinn, the woman he'd loved briefly and fiercely was somewhere in the South with his daughter and he'd never even met his sister's two kids.

Pushing himself to his feet, he felt every single one of those twenty-seven years bearing down on him like a sack of rocks. A rodeo clown threw him his hat and he swooped to pluck it out of the dirt, his eye on the bullock that was still kicking out as the catchers chased it into the back yards.

"You alright Puckerman?" somebody yelled. He waved his hat, raising a cheer from the crowd, but then staggered.

"Fuck" he cursed, a shard of pain boiling down his side and across his chest. His head swam as it made it to the rails of the yard before he looked down.

Oh yeah. Shoulders weren't supposed to be at that angle.

"Fuck" he repeated.

"Puckerman?"

"Aye, man, done my shoulder" he explained to Sam through the rails. The blonde-haired cowboy from Tennessee snorted.

"Naw, ya think? Hang on-aww, fuck, git up here man!"

Puck slung a look over his shoulder at the black, long-horn bull that had twisted and was now charging one of the chaser's horses.

"Christ" he threw his good arm up as far as it would go and scrambled up and over the rails. They'd roped the big black outlaw by the time he thudded to his feet on the other side. It jarred the mess of popped socket hanging off the left side of his body.

"Fuck me" Puck groaned. Sam grinned crookedly at that and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"C'mon, man. Let's git ya to the medico"

Puck held his shoulder weakly and nodded.

"Yeah, alright, I'll go and be your trouty-mouth's wingman" he muttered, falling into step beside him.

The blonde cowboy blushed and Puck rolled his eyes.

"Man, you've got that whole Southern charm thing going; use it!"

Sam just shrugged, shouldering them a path through the crowd.

"Nah, man, she's...I dunno, she's kinda immune to it"

"Bullshit. You're Sam-freakin'-Eva-oh shit"

Puck grabbed Sam with his good arm and yanked him behind a saddlery truck.

"What? What's goin-"

"Ex-girlfriend. Plus, I'm pretty sure her new man wants me dead"

For a moment, the blonde seemed to mull this over and then he just shrugged. Stealing a look around the side of the truck, he saw a tiny, petite brunette woman with a loud jumper walking along, talking brightly. He didn't ask any more questions; after all, this was Noah Puckerman. He had a bit of an issue with people wanting to kill him.

"Alright. C'mon, we'll go round the back"

They made it to the medico's van without further incident. Sam froze up on the outskirts when he saw the buxom African-American woman standing akimbo, giving a lean, wiry rider a piece of her mind about something.

"Dude, for _fuck's sake_; find your balls! I need drugs, man" Puck snapped. The blonde shook himself and led Puck up to the trailer.

"Hey Mercy" he greeted, trying his best to sound easy and collected, and _not _nervous out of his damn mind. She looked up and Puck rolled his eyes when her whole face softened at the sight of the awkward Southerner beside him.

"Heya, Sam. You 'kay?"

"Yeah, nah, I'm good, but my buddy here copped a nasty fall in the bull ride"

"Sup MILF?" he winked at her. She stuck her fists on her hips and narrowed her eyes.

"Noah Puckerman. S'about time we met"

Puck froze.

"Ah, wha-do I know you?"

She snorted.

"Nope, but ya know my man Kurt"

Puck looked suddenly resigned as his eyes widened in recognition at the name.

"Kurt...Kurt Hummel? Finn Hudson's brother. Right. Gotcha" he sighed. She smirked icily and Puck blew a loud breath through his nose. Sam just looked confused.

"Huh?" he enquired.

"So, what seems to be the problem, Puckerman?"

Holding his wounded limb closer, Puck started to back away. Mercedes stalked after him.

"You know, I'm good. I'm great actually-"

"Dislocated shoulder by the looks of things. Well, you poor little thing. How's'bout you jus' step right on into my office and I'll sort that right out for you?" her voice was the sweetest venom Puck had ever heard.

He gulped, felt a nasty twinge in his shoulder, and sighed again.

"Okay, so I can see this is gunna hurt like a bitch, so Imma gunna get something outta this. My boy Sam here is nursing one _hell _of a crush on you-"

"Geez, Puck!" Sam yelped, but went ignored.

"-so I was wondering if you'd let him take ya out sometime. Just to git him to shut up about ya"

For a moment Mercedes just stared at Puck, open-mouthed, and then glanced sideways at Sam, who'd swept his hat off his head and was holding it in one hand, his other hand messing with his hair.

"I...you...really?"

The tentative hope in her tone made him look up from under his lashes, nervously. He smiled hesitatingly.

"Ah, well, yeah. I m-mean, I-"

"I'd love to" she cut him off. Sam's head shot up.

"I-you-really?"

She nodded shyly.

"Well, you know, if the offer still stands"

Sam grinned broadly.

"Oh, man, I-offer still stands, offer definitely stands. I, wow, that's-" he cleared his throat, blushing again as Mercedes giggled at his stuttering. For a moment, they stood a little closer than they had before and glanced at each other coyly.

"Well, ah, so...tonight?" Sam stammered hopefully.

"You move awful fast" Mercedes teased. The colour drained from his features.

"Oh, ah, well, I mean, I-"

"Tonight'd be great"

His grin returned.

"Tonight then. Awesome, I, um. Great!"

Mercedes giggled again and Sam was grinning widely, obviously stopping himself from throwing himself into a fist pump. If Puck hadn't been standing to one side, desperately in need of pain meds and a shoulder realignment, he'd have been getting a cavity from the sweetness. He cleared his throat (twice!) to no avail and finally settled for waving his good hand pointedly trying to get their attentions.

"Okay. Great. Ah, hello; am I invisible here?...yeah? Okay. Awesome-" he turned away and whistled to one of the other medics.

"-Hey, dude, can I get some help here? Aretha's gone ga-ga" he jerked his thumb at Sam and Mercy, who were talking softly with wide smiles.

The other medic took Puck in and sorted him out. He was laying back, testing the strapping on his shoulder, when Mercedes reentered with a warm glow around her that made Puck smile inside.

"You know you just made him the happiest man in the world, right?" he said genuinely and she gave him a half-smile.

"Here, I gotcha enough pain meds to knock out an elephant. You're not competing again, are you?" she asked, all of her earlier traces of malice gone. Puck paused, thinking about his epiphany during his earlier fall.

"Nah. Nah, I don't think I am"

She frowned quickly, measuring something out with her back to him.

"Soundin' awful final there, Puckerman"

He decided later that it must have been the morphine the other medic had given him that made him speak then;

"I ain't seen my daughter in three years, Nurse Jones. I got a niece and a nephew I've never seen more than pictures of. I lost my best mate because of a stupid one night stand with the woman he loves more'n'life. Hell...I got nothin' to my name 'cept trophy saddles and broken bones, Mercedes"

She handed him a pill packet and smiled softly.

"I wouldn't say all that, Puck. You got friends. Good ones. And they're worth more than anything else"

He paused, taking that in and then half smiled.

"You know, you alright when you're not being scary as fuck, Aretha" he complimented with his lady-killer smile. She rolled her eyes, not even fazed, and gave him a gentle push.

"Go sleep it off, Puckerman" she ordered.

_Life is like a rodeo _

_That ride it can throw you round _

_It can take you to the heavens _

_Or send you crashing to the ground _

_And it's not a dress rehearsal _

_It's learning as you go _

_And I'm just another rider _

_In this electric rodeo. _

A month later found Noah Puckerman standing outside a neat little house a thousand miles from everything he'd ever known, fiddling with his hat and scuffing his boots on the pavement outside the gate. Running a hand over his clean-shaven jaw, he stared at the pink trike on the lawn and tried to catch his breath.

"Fuck this" he decided quietly and stepped up to the gate, pushing it open.

With his heart hammering, he raised his fist and rapped weakly against the wood.

"Shit" he muttered to himself and stepped off the porch. He could feel a cold sweat lingering down his spine and he'd never felt like this before; not in any of a thousand moments before the chute opened.

Just as he was half-convinced this was a stupid idea and that it would be better for all involved if he just ran like hell, the door opened and there, with her short blonde hair and wide blue eyes, was the reason he was here.

"Mummy! Is a cowboy!" the three-year-old announced, smiling toothlessly up at him. His heart clenched.

"A cowboy? Honey, what are you...oh my God" Quinn came up behind her daughter.

Her flawless features were just as he remembered them and he felt suddenly sick to the stomach.

"Hey" he croaked. She stared at him for a moment before her hand fell to her, to _their, _daughter's shoulder and pushed her back inside.

"Beth, go play, please. In you go"

"But, mummy-"

"In_side_" Quinn ordered, her voice betraying her turmoil of emotions. Blinking, Beth took the hint. Puck watched her leave, swallowing hard.

Quinn stepped outside and shut the door behind her. For a long, icy moment, they just stared at each other.

"What the Hell are you doing here, Noah?" she broke the silence at long last, her voice cracking. He took an uneven breath.

"I...-" his voice broke and he cleared his throat, taking another uneasy intake and didn't look at her.

"I wanted to see you both, is all"

"Well, you've seen us, now get out" Quinn returned coldly, turning her back on him.

"Quinn, no, wait!-" he stepped up onto the porch step and reached out for her hand. His callouses left marks against the soft, smooth skin of her inner wrist. She swung and yanked her hand from his hold, her blue eyes flashing warningly.

"-I-I-I quit the circuit, Quinn" he told her desperately. She folded her arms, snorting disbelievingly.

"The hell you did!"

"I mean it, Quinn, I swear! I'm done. I...-" he looked away and swallowed hard.

"-I'm just done" he admitted quietly. His eyes were intense when they rose to meet hers again. Something in their dark recesses quietened something in the blonde-haired woman before him.

"What...why? I-I mean, you don't have to be here, Noah. We get your money, okay, I thought that's...I thought that's what you wanted"

He shrugged.

"I thought that's what I wanted too, but I...look, honestly, I...I spent a couple of weeks with Sarah and the kids and I just...I don't wanna be that dad. I want...I want her to know that...no matter what, I'm gunna be here for her, you know?"

She cocked her head to one side. Her defensive stance still had not fallen so much as an inch as she eyed him suspiciously. Holding onto his last shreds of pride, Puck pressed on a knot in the back on his neck with one hand.

"What happened?"

He glanced up.

"What?"

She sighed bitchily.

"Something went wrong. Something's happened; did you get hurt or, something?"

He flinched. He knew she was referring to the last time he'd called her, drunk and in tears after steer-wrestling champion Lauren Zizes had dumped his stupid-looking ass.

"No, I...not this time"

They were both quiet for a long time. Inside, he could hear a kid's show playing on the TV and childish clapping along to the theme-song. The dusk was settling around them as he and Quinn waited for something to break the wall between them.

"It's been a while, Puck, you know that right?" she questioned tiredly at long last. He nodded.

"Yeah...yeah I know. And I...-" he closed his eyes briefly.

"-Jesus, _Christ, _Quinn, I...I _know _I haven't done anything to earn this or to be worthy of this but...I will do anything to prove to you that I can be part of her life"

She took in the indisputable honesty in his face, the way it slanted across his sun-battered face. Slowly breathing out she nodded carefully.

"I'll think about it Noah"

He nodded quickly.

"Thank-you. Th-that's all I'm asking, you know. Just, ah...look, this is gunna look stupid but uhm-" he was reaching into his back pocket and retrieving something that glinted dully against the setting sun. He held it out to her, haltingly. Frowning, unsure, Quinn took it.

Immediately, her breath caught.

"Lima Rodeo All-Round Cowboy" she read off softly from the inscription on the back of the belt buckle. He shrugged, a deep blush settling across his brown cheeks.

"Yeah, well, I...I, urg!-" they both chuckled awkwardly at his inelegance as Puck shoved a hand through his scrappy Mohawk.

"If you could, um-I mean you don't have to- but I'd like Beth to have it"

She looked up and for a moment it wasn't Puck, rodeo rider, standing before her; it was just Noah Puckerman, looking at his feet and desperate for her to love him half as much as he loved her.

"You want Beth to have this? Noah, this is like...this is...everything"

He shook his head firmly.

"Not anymore"

With a brief, tight smile, he jerked a thumb behind himself to indicate he was leaving and started to back away, half-turned. He was at the gate before Quinn spoke.

"Wait, Noah..."

He looked over his shoulder. She was standing on the bottom step of the porch, his buckle clutched in her left hand and looking completely uneasy.

"What...I mean...what are you going to do?"

He shrugged.

"I dunno, really. I figure I'll find something while I'm selling the trailer and the horses, so-"

"Noah! You're going to sell Titan?"

Titan was Noah's heart taken form as a massive, deep-chested chestnut stallion with blazing white markings. He could camp-draft, shoot around the barrels a mile a minute and turn his spirited head to just about anything a horse could do. Noah had trained him and ridden him like a centaur. There was a connection between them that even the most experienced of horsemen had envied.

Which explained why Noah's face darkened, his eyes lancing open like wounds.

"He died last year" were the only words he could manage. Quinn caught her breath.

"Oh, Noah..." she whispered. He shrugged it off.

"I, ah...I got a filly outta him, though...-" his lips turned up tightly at the corners.

"-I called her Cheerio"

Surprised, Quinn giggled out loud and Puck's grin broke across his face.

"Smart ass" she accused him lightly and Puck threw his hands in the air.

"Guilty as charged, babe" he laughed shortly. They looked across at each other; Puck had one hand on the gate and the other holding his hat. She looked down quickly and turned the buckle over in her hands carefully.

"Where are you stayin' tonight?" she asked.

"The trailer. I got the horses hobbled at Mike and Tina's" he said offhandedly. Quinn took a deep breath and didn't dare look up as she spoke her next words;

"Do you wanna stay here?"

He jerked.

"Wha-I thought you said-"

"She's your daughter too, Puck-Noah...you've got as much right to her as I do and...maybe I don't trust you. Hell, I don't trust anybody. But if you're willing to give up _everything_; all this-" she gestured with the buckle.

"-then who the hell am I to stop you?"

He looked floored.

"I...I won't let you regret this, Quinn" he promised her strongly. Their eyes met properly and they were both searching the other's face, desperate, complete and terrified.

"Thank-you" he said powerfully. Quinn rolled her eyes and nodded inside.

"Hurry up before I change my mind" she snapped briskly.


	3. Between you and me

**Title: Between you and me **

**Rating: M for language and sexual references **

**Song Credits: None. I repeat myself, but *le gasp!* **

**Summary: Blaine's had enough. Kurt discovers a small kink. **

"Fags"

It had been a long day. Hell, it had been a long week. Blaine was looking forward to nothing more than curling up on the couch with Kurt, watching some crap TV and eating crap food that would make Kurt complain about pores. They'd walked into their favourite Thai place only a couple of blocks from their flat and placed their order. Kurt had sort of melted into Blaine's side, resting his head on his shoulder, their arms linked as they waited. His eyes were half-closed and Blaine knew the words he was mouthing to himself were keywords for his Midterm. He kissed the top of Kurt's scruffy hair; a 'do he would never have been caught dead with back in Ohio, but here in New York his strenuous image upkeep had been scaled way back. Blaine liked it and he made sure to remind Kurt that he did.

The poisonous word slicing across the air made Kurt shoot to his feet, eyes wide like a startled deer.

"Excuse me?" he demanded icily.

The guy in the line in front of them sneered wordlessly, as if Kurt wasn't even worth his breath. Blaine took Kurt's hand and shook his head.

_Not worth it; _he told him silently. Kurt shot a glare at the back of the man's head.

_Arsehole_ the look snapped. Blaine nuzzled comfortingly into his neck.

"Number thirty-four" the guy behind the counter called out. Blaine doubled checked the ticket in his hand before starting forward. Picking up their bags, Blaine turned and gave Kurt a smile as he sidestepped a small child heading across to the booths on the other side of the store.

Which meant he had no time at all to brace himself for the completely unnecessary bodycheck Mr Homophobe slammed him with.

"Blaine!" Kurt called out.

"Hey, what the hell?" a stranger in the line said, shocked.

Blaine shook the impact off and straightened before fixing the guy who a look so completely _black _that Kurt paused. The whole store was still. The always-dapper and charming singer took a deep breath.

"Fuck you, buddy. Seriously. I have had the motherfucker of all weeks and I don't have the time, patience or inclination to be dealing with naive, spineless homophobic shitheads like yourself. Not on my to-do list. _He, _on the other hand, is. So how about _I _go home and fuck my boyfriend speechless and you go home to your hand and your baby oil. Get the hell out of my way"

Shell-shocked, Mr Homophobe just stared at him as Blaine shouldered his smaller form past and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him possessively close as they made their way to the door. Opening it for his boyfriend, Blaine paused and turned back inside.

"M'am, sir; I am very, very sorry for my language in front of your children. Have a nice night" he spoke in a clipped tone across the room to the family in the booth. The man waved it off with a small, uneasy smile and the woman just stared at him.

The cold New York night wrapped around them. There was steam and smog and people and honking horns. Blaine took another deep breath as they began to make their way along the side walk towards home. They didn't speak the whole walk back, but they didn't release one another from their shared embrace either.

Kurt finally disentangled himself at their door, fumbling for the keys with his gloved fingers. Blaine caught his free hand suddenly.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, just listen for a-mmph!"

Being grabbed by the lapels of his black coat and pulled sharply into Kurt's starved, molten kiss was not the reaction Blaine had been expecting, but he sure as hell was no complaining. Angling upwards, his mouth slanted hungrily under Kurt's, Blaine's left hand slid around his hip while the other hand dropped the bag of Thai food and cupped Kurt's neck. Like glowing coals, the embrace slowed, melted heatedly into something wet and careful and messy until they emerged, panting, for air. Out on the street, something smashed and people started shouted drunkenly.

"Wow, we should get inside" Blaine breathlessly grabbed their Thai. Kurt turned the key and shuddered at the instinctive hand Blaine put on the small of his back to guide him through the door.

Sliding the bag onto their bench and then hopping up beside it, Blaine snagged Kurt's scarf as the other young man was removing his coat and _layers, _pulling him in to stand between his legs.

"So what was that about?" Blaine questioned lightly, a cheeky smile glittering in his hazel depths. Kurt smiled slowly, like unfurling rays of a sunrise.

"You are-" he kissed the point of his collarbone.

"-_far_-" he nipped his chin teasingly, his hands sliding up Blaine's thighs, which trembled in anticipation.

"-too hot-" he dropped a biting kiss against the pulse on his neck.

"-when you-" the words were hissed against the reddened shell of his ear.

"-_fucking swear!_" he finished roughly, pulling Blaine's lips down to his.

Blaine looked slightly dazed as Kurt pulled away and then grinned widely.

"You...you have a kink!"

Kurt's face was the very definition of 'baby penguin'

"I do not! I-I-dammit, no, Blaine, don't look at me like that"

In reply, the dark haired boy just pulled his lover back to him.

"You fucking love it" he murmured darkly against Kurt's lips and exalted in the shiver that followed.


	4. Regionals 2012

_The reason that Mike and Artie were on the balcony at the 2012 Regional's. _

They'd rushed off stage, smacking high fives with Mr Shue on their way past, laughing breathlessly from pure and total elation. As the Trouble Tones' opening strains broke through the curtains backstage, Quinn had grabbed Rachel's arm to reapply make-up and Tina was being whirled in the air by Mike; Puck and Sam were play-wrestling just to burn off the buzz of energy boiling in their veins.

Kurt flicked a glance in the mirror as he took in the scenes of complete joy around him. His eyes were alight in the reflection; he could taste victory on his tongue and what made it all the sweeter was the way the Warblers had been on their feet for them, and the New Directions had stood for the Warblers.

Suddenly a strong arm curled around his waist. Hot breath against the pulse under his ear;

"_Kurt_" Blaine whispered and winked mischievously at him in the reflection before ducking out the side, between equipment. Kurt laughed incredulously; Rory gave him a strange look. He smiled in reply, giving the Irish boy's arm a squeeze as he darted away after Blaine.

Behind the wings, the sound of the music was dampened, echoing eerily in the deserted darkness.

"Blaine? _Blaine, _we are so not supposed to-"

Two hands shot out, snagging Kurt by his suspenders and Blaine's wide grin flashed in the murk. A hard kiss deliciously bruised Kurt's mouth and he threw his arms around Blaine's shoulders. His skin was electric, like there was lightening in his blood.

"Oh-hi" he sighed as Blaine withdrew so softly it was as if they were still kissing. Those hazel eyes glittered.

"You're sort of amazing, you know that?" he whispered. A corner of Kurt's mouth tugged upwards.

"I told you I pull focus" he said, his voice still low, like they were in a church or a library. Blaine smirked.

"God, you do"

Lips, the sweep of tongue, stumbling backwards until Kurt's back hit something solid. Neither of them would be able to remember later what the hell it was. At that moment, they were aware only of the _heat-soft-beautiful-Blaine-Kurt-hard-there-Jesus-Gaga. _

"Urg, no, B-Blaine, w-we ne-need-the balcony- 'Here's to us'" Kurt panted, his eyes rolling back with pleasure as his boyfriend's swollen lips dragged torturously down his neck. At some point Blaine had lost his shirt and Kurt's was dangling precariously off one shoulder.

"Tell me to stop" Blaine hissed, nipping his ear lobe as his hands squeezed Kurt's thighs.

"Faark" he managed hoarsely.

Mike, wheeling Artie, paused at the low moan that followed what sounded a bit like a garbled swear word. Artie looked up over his shoulder as the dancer looked down.

"Think we can manage the lift, man?" Mike enquired.

"_Blaine!_"

"Yup. Let's go" Artie said, eyes wide behind his glasses. They went quickly back to the wings. Puck was tapping his foot.

"Dude! Finnosence is having a bitch fit. Where's hobbit and Lady?"

Artie and Mike exchanged a look.

"Ahh" said Mike meaningfully. Puck glared, uncomprehending.

"Let's just say I'm scarred, Mike's considering cutting his ears off, and we'll take their place for the last song" Artie reeled off, spinning himself in the direction of the elevator.

"Yeah. What he said"

Puck frowned after them, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Suddenly, he looked impressed and glanced in the direction Mike and Artie had arrived from with a knowing grin.


End file.
